


She Cries Because Of You

by SapphireSmoke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSmoke/pseuds/SapphireSmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had wanted the Potter boy, but the mudblood would do just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Cries Because Of You

**Author's Note:**

> 10 prompts make up one story. Because I didn't want this to turn into another long, crazy ass fic of mine, I made each prompt 500 words exactly. Never done that, so it was a bit of a challenge. Hope you enjoy!

  


**Captured**

“Get them!”

Bellatrix’s tone was shrieking; commanding as she pointed at the trio. Narcissa nearly tripped over herself to obey without thought nor question. The house elf – that filthy little creature Lucius should have killed the moment it found freedom – had disarmed her not moments previously and now her wand lay on the opposite side of the drawing room. It made her feel naked; vulnerable without its protection. Still, Narcissa didn’t hesitate; what three children could do to her paled in comparison to the damage her sister would do should she fail her.

She heard her sister scream something unintelligible as Harry, Hermione, and Ron grabbed a hold of Dobby. Narcissa could see her throw something from the corner of her eye, but didn’t have a moment to process what it was; her stomach had dropped to the floor the moment she realized that the elf was going to apparate them out of the manor. Fear gripped Narcissa’s chest – the fear of failing, disappointing her sister, making her angry – and so she reached out frantically, desperately at the last second; praying to anyone listening that she would grab hold of the boy.

When her fingers closed around clothing she pulled as hard as she could, toppling over from the force of a body hitting hers as a loud _crack_ echoed off the walls, signaling the leave of only two of the three children. There was a scream then, a girl’s scream. “RON! _HARRY!_ ”

It was the girl; Hermione. She had grabbed the wrong child.

“ _Damnit!_ ” Narcissa cried out in frustration, shoving the frightened girl off of her as she scrambled to her feet. Hermione, looking terrified that she was left alone in the Malfoy manor, tried to make a run for it. It was foolish move, as there was nowhere to go; Lucius blocked the exit leading to the hallway and Draco the doorway to the dining room. But Bellatrix got to her first, grasping her arm and pulling her towards her so hard that the girl screamed in pain.

“Ah, ah, ahhh,” she taunted, digging her nails into Hermione’s arm so hard she drew blood. “You foolish girl; did you really think you and your little friends could best me? _Me?!_ I’m Bellatrix Lestrange; I’m the Dark Lord’s right hand and you – you filthy little creature – have no _idea_ who you’re playing with.” A sickening smirk crept across her features as she wrenched Hermione’s head back by the grasp she had on her hair. She pressed her lips to her ear, promising, “But you will…”

“Let me _go!_ ” Hermione screamed, fighting against Bellatrix’s hold. Narcissa watched as her sister used the incarcerous spell, binding the girl so she would stop struggling against her hold. Then a hand was slapped over her mouth, stifling the mudblood’s screams while her back was roughly pressed against heaving breasts. Bellatrix’s eyes connected with Narcissa’s, burning black with glee and hatred.

“Cissy,” she ordered. “Make up the dungeons; we have a new house guest.”

 **Crazy**

“What use is the girl to us, Bella?” Narcissa asked, lip upturned as she watched her sister cut off the rest of the mudblood’s clothing. The girl was chained to the wall; both her hands and feet bound by shackles, a gag in her mouth. She was whimpering, struggling feebly against her bindings. Tears were streaming down her face; eyes wide with fright as Bellatrix’s knife got a little too close to the junction between her legs.

But Bellatrix paused right before she was seemingly about to defile her in a horrific way. She turned her head sharply to look at her sister. “She’s our _entertainment_ ,” she answered, like she was explaining something to a child. She stood up then, leaving Hermione in half tattered clothing as she moved towards her sister. “And I shouldn’t have to explain to you the value of having her here, Cissy. Did that elf take your brain as well as your wand?”

Narcissa glared at her indignantly, arms crossed. “Do not speak to me like I’m ignorant. I know you plan to use her as bait, but I don’t think they’ll come for her. It’d be too much of a risk. We’re wasting _time,_ Bella.”

“What do you care?” Bellatrix snapped furiously. “You know nothing of loyalty to Him; you’re merely along for the ride so _shut up_ and enjoy the view from the crazy train, love.” Bellatrix turned from her and muttered with a wicked grin as she advanced on Hermione again, “Lest you wish me to push you off the rails.”

Narcissa fell silent; tightlipped with anger and upset as she tried to not let the way her sister spoke to her affect her. She used to not be this cruel, she used to not be this _angry._ But ever since Azkaban, it seems the person she had always known and loved was no longer there. Yet she still waited, desperately, for some sign that the sister she adored was underneath all of that rage and hatred.

Hermione screamed beneath her gag as Bellatrix’s knife sliced into her thigh, getting back to cutting her clothing from her body. Narcissa shot her sister a look of distaste before asking, “Why must you make her nude? Surely the mudblood’s putrid body doesn’t arouse you.”

Bellatrix sighed loudly, like having to explain every little thing to Narcissa was such a burden to her. “Because, Cissy,” she started slowly, “I won’t be able to see the damage I inflict if she’s _covered._ Even a useless housewife must understand the value of seeing the product of one’s efforts, yes?”

Narcissa colored in anger. “Sod off, you mad fucking bimbo. It was merely a question, not an invitation to verbally abuse me.”

Bellatrix smirked, running the knife up Hermione’s bloody thigh. “ _Everything_ you say is an invitation, Cissy…” She cut into her again, emitting screams from her captor as she looked directly at Narcissa. “You’re just cross that I haven’t taken the one you’ve been practically _dripping_ for."

 **Torture**

“Mum…!”

“Hush now, dear,” Narcissa responded comfortingly, bringing her son closer to her to cover his ears with both the side of her body and her hand. Bellatrix had taken the gag off the mudblood’s mouth and her screams echoed through the house. They were terrible; chilling. Even Lucius looked uneasy, though he had never been one to stomach the… _bloodier_ aspects of his chosen path. When he joined the Death Eaters, he expected to be nothing more than an asset from inside the Ministry; never to dirty his hands directly.

How wrong he had turned out to be.

Poor Draco; he was so eager to follow in his father’s footsteps, to become part of something that he was told would shape the world for the better. But the problem was, he _was_ his father’s son. He could not stomach it as much as he. Narcissa kissed the top of his head before addressing her husband, “Take Draco shopping, he’s growing out of his clothes so quickly…”

“Narcissa—”

“Please,” Narcissa requested forcefully; she did not want her son here any longer. The damage it was inflicting upon him was clear. “I will watch Bella.” Lucius looked as though he did not want to leave her alone with Bellatrix, but Narcissa knew she would never hurt her; at least not physically. Finally he nodded, coaxing Draco from the room.

Narcissa descended the stairs to the dungeons, hesitant to see what awaited her down there, however knowing Bellatrix should be properly watched; she was, after all, nothing more than a deranged toddler now it seemed. The sight that greeted her made her nauseous.

Hermione was practically covered head to toe in blood, too exhausted to scream anymore as she whimpered pathetically. She was half unconscious from the pain and she hung rather lifelessly from her bindings as Bellatrix continued her fun with her knife. Narcissa cared nothing for the mudbloods of the world, but the image made her turn away, sickened. The girl was just a child – Draco’s age – and it made her feel like a horrible mother for allowing this to happen under her roof, regardless of the girl’s impure lineage.

“Come to play, Cissy?” Bellatrix cackled, pausing her fun to look at her sister in the doorway. “You do know how I love it when you play with me…”

Narcissa had never played with her like _that,_ nor did she ever plan to.

“No,” she answered, meeting her sister’s eyes. “I’ve come to tell you to take a break; I’ll be making supper shortly. I had hoped you would eat with me.” In all honesty, she had hoped for a break from the screams as well; it was hard to stomach.

“You had hoped I’d eat _with_ you,” Bellatrix started, a smirk crossing her features. “Or that I would eat _you?_ ”

Narcissa flushed, but remained her composure. “Stop it. We are no longer children, Bellatrix.”

“No…” Bellatrix affirmed, licking her lips as she stared at her. “We _certainly_ aren’t…”

 **Blood**

Bellatrix had told Narcissa her toy was too dirty to play with, a silent demand that she be the one to rectify that situation. Narcissa was furious with her sister for taunting her openly about things that should never, _ever_ be discussed and thought of refusing, but found herself descending the stairs to the dungeon just to escape her for a moment. She hated, more than anything, Bellatrix’s desire to humiliate her. Half the time it made her want to cry, that her sister would use something that used to make her feel rather complete when she was younger against her like that, but she was a proper woman and she wouldn’t give Bellatrix the satisfaction of her tears.

Things had changed; that much was rather obvious. Bellatrix would never be the same person she knew and loved. Yet still, like a fool, Narcissa followed her around like an abandoned puppy; she supposed that was always their dynamic though, as sisters.

Hermione was conscious when Narcissa descended the stairs, albeit barely. She looked at her, eyes half dead yet still filled with so much pleading, and the blonde couldn’t stand to meet her gaze. She knelt down before her, placing her basin of water on the ground as she wet a rag, hoping the girl wouldn’t speak to her.

Her hope was in vain however.

“Please…” Hermione begged softly, voice cracking from the pain she was in. She could barely speak and yet… “Help me, _please…!_ ”

Narcissa swallowed as she brought the rag to the girl’s skin, beginning to clean the blood from her abused body. The girl winced from her touch, whimpering from the pain. “I’m sorry,” was all Narcissa could offer her. She felt ashamed of herself; that this was what her life amounted to now. All the pain and hatred from her sister, consuming her family like a disease. But Narcissa could never let her go; she could never walk through a world without Bellatrix, no matter how dark and horrible that world has become. She was her sister, she was her everything. Even with all the pain Bellatrix showered upon her now, Narcissa found she would rather be abused than have nothing at all.

But she had always been the weakest Black.

The basin was beginning to turn red as Narcissa wrung out the blood soaked rag. It sickened her, but she continued with her task, trying to allot the girl a little less pain and horror, if only for a moment. It was, after all, all she could offer her. Such a small comfort, but one no less.

“How can you love her…?”

The question posed was barely above a whisper, filled with so much confusion and hurt. Narcissa took a breath, knowing she owed the girl no explanation; yet in the position Hermione was in she may actually deserve it, despite her blood status. “Because she is my family,” she answered softly as she continued to clean her. “And to us, that means something.”

 **Terror**

“Tell me, mudblood; are you a virgin?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide with terror from the implication Bellatrix’s sick smile held as she dragged her nails down her stomach. They left bloody scratches in their wake, making the girl whimper in fear and pain as Bellatrix’s hand got a little too close to something that would be incredibly violating.

“Bellatrix, _stop it!_ ” Narcissa shouted suddenly, breaking the silence she held for the last hour while she babysat her sister’s twisted fun. Bellatrix turned to look at her sharply, hand stilling a fraction of an inch from the girl’s mound.

“I don’t think I asked for audience participation. Tsk, tsk, Cissy… you’re being _rude._ ”

Narcissa’s heart pounded in her throat; quarreling with her sister was a dangerous path to take, after all. It was why most of the time she found herself silent. But she couldn’t be silent about this. “Do not take that from her, Bella,” she demanded. The girl’s body could heal if she beat her, her soul could move on should she kill her, but what Bellatrix was implying was something she could _never_ get back.

Narcissa knew that all too well.

“ _Why?_ ” Bellatrix demanded, turning to advance on her sister now. Narcissa found herself taking an instinctual step backwards as a sick, taunting smile crossed Bellatrix’s face. “Is it because I took it from _you?_ Jealous, are you; that I might take another’s?” Narcissa found her back against the wall, her sister’s arm trapping her between herself and the corner.

The look on Hermione’s face, even though her fear and pain, made Narcissa feel sick with herself. But she did not show it; though her cheeks colored in humiliation once more she kept herself poised, tall. “She is impure, Bella,” Narcissa tried to reason. “It would be sickening to watch you dirty yourself with her filth.”

“I would not be taking from her to pleasure myself,” Bellatrix told her, cocking her head to the side as she assessed her sister’s body language. “Merely to destroy something so unworthy to walk upon this earth. But…” she grinned madly, her lips an inch from hers as she whispered, “you knew that, didn’t you? So tell me, Cissy; why do you _really_ protest it?”

Narcissa closed her eyes, not wanting her sister to see the truth behind them. “Please… don’t do it,” she begged softly. Narcissa didn’t want another to become so destroyed, so _attached_ to her sister like she did because of that. It was like Stockholm Syndrome; the way Bellatrix constantly destroyed Narcissa and yet she continuously came back for more. She had adapted; learned to crave the pain and the sex her sister gave her when she was just a small child. It had ruined her; she couldn’t watch her do that to another.

“Too bad,” Bellatrix answered simply, suddenly whipping out her wand and using the incantation to bind Narcissa, who screamed her protests. “Sit back and watch, Cissy; this should prove to be _quite_ a spectacle.”

 **Violation**

Fresh blood was pouring down Hermione’s legs as she screamed, Bellatrix having ripped her chastity from her without a moment’s hesitation. Narcissa was on the floor, sick with more anger and horror than she had ever felt in her life. But Bellatrix had bound both her ankles and wrists, making it impossible for her to leave the room to find some sense of peace from the madness that resided down there.

“Stop! _PLEASE!_ ” Hermione screamed, sounding frightened and in pain as she trying desperately to get away from her. But there was nowhere for her to go. She started crying, tears streaming down her face as Bellatrix’s jagged nails shredded her from the inside. It made Narcissa want to vomit; it was her own past being played out in front of her. It had been so long that she had forgotten she was frightened, practically manhandled and abused the first time Bellatrix took her. She had trained herself to block it out, but she couldn’t anymore.

“BELLATRIX, STOP IT!” Narcissa screamed, unable to take it anymore. It was driving her a bit mad, if she wasn’t halfway there already. “Stop it or I swear I’ll walk right out of your life! You will _never_ see me again! Do you hear me? _NEVER!”_

Bellatrix stopped instantly, pulling her fingers out of Hermione to turn sharply towards her sister. “What did you just say to me?!”

Narcissa looked at her furiously, heart pounding in her chest as she, for the first time in her life, took an actual stand against her sister. “You heard me.” She was sure it’d kill her psyche to leave her, to leave the abuse she had found herself accustomed to, but watching this was destroying her.

Bellatrix was in front of her in the blink of an eye, knelt down to be at her height so she could be right up in her face. “You will _never_ leave, Cissy,” she told her in a hissed whisper, a hint of a threat lingering behind her words. “You’re _mine._ You’ve _always_ been mine!”

“Not anymore.”

It was said with such strength that it took Bellatrix aback for a moment and for the first time; Narcissa could see true worry etched in the expression on her sister’s face. “I… thought we were playing, Cissy,” she tried to amend softly, using a tone that expressed innocence and confusion. “Don’t you want to play?”

“Not like _that!_ ” Narcissa shouted, even more furious that this was all just some kind of _game_ to her sister. But wasn’t everything? “Now untie me and leave the girl be; the way she looks now is enough of a statement to the Potter boy, should he come.”

Bellatrix stared at her, expression unreadable. Finally though, nimble fingers started to untie the bindings that held Narcissa’s wrists together. When her hands were free, Bellatrix moved to untie her ankles but was pushed out of the way. “Don’t touch me.”

Bellatrix looked hurt by the rejection, but said nothing.

 **Secret**

“Don’t cry, Cissy…”

Narcissa was lying on her bed, having found herself unable to be her sister’s babysitter anymore. Being made to watch that killed something inside of her and she was no longer able to control the emotions inside of her. She cried into her pillow, having thought Lucius and Draco were still out and Bellatrix was still down in the basement.

It seemed she was only partly right.

“Get out,” Narcissa choked though her tears, refusing to even turn to look at her. She didn’t want to fool herself into thinking Bellatrix actually cared about her pain; it had been a long time since she had even acknowledged its existence, let alone cared about it. She was probably standing there with some self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Narcissa’s protest was ignored, however. She felt Bellatrix sit behind her on the bed, then lie so the front half of her body covered her back. Narcissa nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt her sister touch her, thinking she was going to lash out. But instead she had merely placed her hand on her forearm. “I didn’t mean to make you angry—”

Narcissa laughed bitterly at that statement, turning around to face her. “You _must_ be joking…!”

“I don’t understand why you’re so _cross_ with me!” Bellatrix shouted, actually looking genuinely confused. “You’ve always liked the violence, the pain, the hatred. You’ve been a bloody masochist your entire life and now you’re making _me_ out to be some kind of horrible person when all I’ve ever done is what I _thought_ you wanted! For fuck’s sake, Narcissa; MAKE UP YOUR SODDING MIND!”

Narcissa slapped her without a second thought, though immediately moved to _run the hell away_ once her brain caught up to the situation. But Bellatrix grabbed her furiously, pinning her to the bed beneath her. “What is wrong with you?!” she screamed.

“What’s wrong with _me?_ ” Narcissa spat back, trying to throw her sister off of her. But it was in vain; Bellatrix had always been stronger. “What the bloody hell is wrong with _you?_ Do you honestly think I liked being raped as a child?! Do you think I _liked_ getting abused?! DO YOU?!”

“No, _no!_ ” Bellatrix argued, looking a little terrified. She was shaking her head erratically. “No, don’t you dare tell me I raped you! You wanted it! You _did!_ I WOULDN’T—”

“I DIDN’T WANT IT!” Narcissa shrieked. “Not at first; you just… you just _take_ things without asking, Bella – all the time! That was not something I was willing to give you; what you did _fucked me up!_ ”

It was a secret she never meant to reveal to anyone, least of all her, but she couldn’t keep it in any longer. What Bellatrix did to her that night when she was eleven destroyed her; part of her would always hate her sister for that.

But by the look on Bellatrix’s face, part of her was starting to hate herself too.

 **Wrong**

Narcissa moaned as Bellatrix’s teeth sunk into her neck, her fingers slipping under the confines of her knickers. It was a blur; how they had gotten here. There was a whispered apology, a quiet promise of “I love you,” from her sister and Narcissa found herself slipping so easily back into the sheep she always had been for her eldest sister. It was sad, it was damn _wrong_ how easy it was for Bellatrix to make her forget the pain with such simple words.

It had been years since they had been in bed together; before Azkaban, before the war. But it felt like, in that moment, nothing had changed. It was vicious cycle – the abuse, the tears, the promise of unconditional love, the sex – and maybe Narcissa was foolish to think she could ever get out of it. Maybe part of her didn’t want to; all she had ever known her whole life was Bellatrix and to walk away from that would be like walking away from a part of herself, no matter how sure she was that she would be the one to kill her in the end.

Narcissa tangled her hands in her hair, pulling Bellatrix’s face towards hers so she could kiss her with the passion of all the years they found themselves apart from one another. She groaned loudly against her sister’s lips as she felt Bellatrix’s fingers slide inside of her. She saw stars behind her lids as Bellatrix took from her what she always so good at taking; her breath, her love, her sanity. Bellatrix drank up all that she was as she pounded into her, milking a mind-numbing orgasm that nearly shattered the windows when she screamed.

Then she had another, and another.

When Bellatrix finally stopped, Narcissa was flushed and sweating on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as the world spun around her. After a moment her eyes landed on her sister, who was sucking on her fingers with a self-satisfied smirk, like she had won. She _did_ win. Always.

“You always were easy,” she told her, amusement in her voice. She cackled and Narcissa felt sick.

“Don’t,” she begged softly. “Don’t do this to me again, Bella. You told me you were sorry; that you loved me…”

“I do love you,” Bellatrix told her, looking down at her sister’s upset features like it didn’t bother her in the slightest. “But you’re a sodding _liar,_ ” she hissed venomously. “I never raped you. I loved you more than my own _life,_ Cissy; I would _never—_ ” She cut herself off, looking furious. She picked herself up off the bed, straightening her robes.

“I hope you feel like a whore,” she shot at her angrily. “Because that’s what you are, Narcissa; a pathetic _whore._ It took all of ten minutes to get you from hating me to spreading your legs. What do you think that says about you, huh?”

Narcissa didn’t have an answer for her; all she had were tears.

 **Shattered**

“Narcissa… are you alright?”

Narcissa nodded, tightlipped in response to her husband’s inquiry. But it was a lie. She felt empty; completely shattered and broken inside and she was sure there was no way anyone could ever make her feel better. What was worse was that she had spent most of the day justifying Bellatrix’s actions in her head. She knew her sister couldn’t accept the fact that she raped her when she was a child, so of course she would get angry and offended at the accusation. Of course she would retaliate by manipulating her and then lashing out. But that didn’t mean that made it any less true, nor any less painful.

She could hear the girl’s screams from below. Bellatrix had taken to torturing her again, no doubt taking out her anger about Narcissa’s accusation on Hermione. It was horrible; hearing it. But what could she do, short of letting the girl go? Bellatrix would kill her.

Then again, perhaps she was better off dead.

It was many hours until Bellatrix ascended the stairs, blood staining her hands. Lucius had gone to tend to Draco, who wasn’t dealing well with the screams of pain that echoed through his house. Narcissa wanted to do it herself, but she felt too numb, too empty to move. When her eyes connected with her sister’s, she wished instantly that they hadn’t.

“That was your fault,” Bellatrix told her simply, trying to hide the rage within her. But she couldn’t; she had never been able to. It always poured from every fiber of her body and wrapped around Narcissa until it suffocated her. Fire, pain. “She cries because of you.”

Then she left, leaving Narcissa sitting there feeling rather destroyed.

She wasn’t sure when she made the decision to move, but suddenly she found herself taking the stairs to the dungeons two at a time. Hermione looked up at her, fear in her eyes, as she no doubt thought it was Bellatrix returning. But confusion masked over her face once she saw Narcissa and her rushed demeanor.

“Can you walk?” Narcissa asked her, all in one breath. Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I… I don’t know…” she croaked, still very much in a lot of pain. She was bleeding, but there was no time to heal her wounds; Narcissa didn’t know when her sister would return.

“Well you’re going to have to,” Narcissa told her before taking out her wand, pointing it at the shackles that bound the girl to the wall. She was released instantly with a single word and Hermione nearly toppled to the ground. Narcissa picked her up, getting her to her feet. “There’s a passage behind the gargoyle on the far right wall,” she told her, pointing at the other end of the dungeons. “ _Run,_ she told her pointedly.

“My wand…”

“There’s no time, _go!_ ” Narcissa hissed frantically. She could already hear her sister walking around upstairs.

Hermione gave her one last look of thanks, before suddenly… she was gone.

 **Forbidden**

Narcissa could barely breathe. The grip Bellatrix had on her throat was tight; constricting as fire raged in her eyes. “Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve just done?!” she screamed, looking positively murderous.

She had a right to, though; what Narcissa did – choosing a mudblood over her own family – was forbidden. If her Aunt were alive, she would be blasted from the family tree in an instant.

“I… gave you… an excuse…” Narcissa gasped out, feeling lightheaded from the oxygen being deprived from her brain. Bellatrix seemed to see that and she loosened her grip, but not her hold on her. No, she didn’t want her to move an inch, but apparently she needed her to breath. She couldn’t scream at someone who was passed out, after all.

“And excuse for _what?!_ I should kill you where you stand, do you know that? I SHOULD KILL YOU!”

Narcissa laughed, a weak sound that only barely made it past her lips. It was so funny… it was all so _fucking_ funny, wasn’t it…? Hilarious. “That’s… my point,” she explained, voice hoarse from how much pressure her sister had on her vocal cords previously. “It’s… what you want… isn’t it? _So do it._ You have… your excuse now…”

Bellatrix stared at her. For someone who had always been such an open book, Narcissa couldn’t decipher her expression for the life of her. It was a good long while until she moved, but when she did she let Narcissa go, only to backhand her across the face so hard she toppled to the floor. Narcissa spit blood and groaned, though it was hardly unexpected.

“I’m not going to be your _excuse_ for suicide, Cissy,” Bellatrix spat at her. “If your life is that goddamn unmanageable, end it yourself.”

Narcissa laughed bitterly from on the floor. “Is that what the great Bellatrix Lestrange would do? Huh? I disobeyed you, Bella. I deliberately went against you _and you don’t have the sack to do anything about that?!”_

Bellatrix growled, getting down on the ground next to her as she grabbed a fist full of her hair, wrenching her head up to look at her. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually have bollocks.” She looked at her, a variety of emotions playing across her face before she hissed, “And contrary to what you may believe, _I don’t want you dead._ ”

She let her go suddenly, standing up to leave. But she stopped when Narcissa demanded, “Why??”

“Why?!” Bellatrix repeated furiously, rounding on her. “Because I love you, you fucking idiot! You’re the only person I _have!_ So wish for death all you want, but I promise you, Cissy; I will _never_ let you achieve it.”

Narcissa could hear the truth behind her sister’s words and no matter how much she hated her for it; a part of her loved her for it even more. It was sick, wasn’t it? It all was.

But in the end, it was what they both were used to.

 **THE END**


End file.
